


in a sea of shame

by fated_addiction



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two truths and a lie. Mako and Korra are really getting good at this game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a sea of shame

**Author's Note:**

> For IWoC. Who proved that I can never say no to a dare. And is very sweet. General spoilers apply.

The truth? The truth:

 _and we can't be friends_ sticks with her, you know, for a while, for a long while even after she tells him, "She's going to need you - " because that is the right thing to do and Asami is not a liar.

Asami is not a liar.

 

-

 

Korra is bearing with it, the full house.

It's the least she can do; she knows she owes Tenzin, for teaching her, Pema, for not turning her way, the squirts, for their father, the others - her _friends_ \- for standing in their lives as she does. She bears it because she wants to, and having to, well, that's not even a second thought. Korra doesn't do well with second thoughts.

But it's still a schedule, even with the others staying with her; she is up at sunrise, blistering through patience drills and watch _your form, korra_. It's happening slowly: the blisters at the tips of her fingers, the way the air sort of settles and unravels, pulling at panels, pulling at wisps of skin, her bones and the cracks of second guessing because there is never not the reminder of Avatar Aang, looming over the island and waiting for her.

And Mako is always watching.

"You're an idiot," she tells him, after a grueling night with Tenzin. There were the White Lotus guards and then there were _the_ White Lotus guards, surrounding her, waiting, much like the hunks of metal that were Asami's dad's last contribution to the Sato legacy.

He rolls his eyes. "You're distracted," he charges.

His fingers graze her forehead. It's a surface wound; her skin breaks and there's a little bit of blood over her brow. Those stupid panels, okay?

"No," she drawls. "I'm just trying to _patient_ ," she mimics. "And not burn down the stupid panels of doom."

"They're good for you," he says.

"Says _you_ ," she retorts.

He grins a little, and really, he can't do _that_. There's a flutter, a stupid flutter and she looks away, tired and rubbing her eyes. Her gaze settles on Avatar Aang, hovering over the island. She thinks of Lin, of course, like she always does as of late; she recognizes the same sort of intensity in herself, but it's refined, in a way that Korra can only crave to have. She knows that Tenzin watches too.

Mako settles next to her though. She's sitting just at the edge of the practice ring, her knees edging against her chest.

"You need to stop hating yourself," he says quietly.

If she's surprised, it doesn't surface. Her mouth purses.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She's quick. The pitch in her voice changes; she lets her tongue press against the roof of her mouth. Her fingers pinch her nose too. "I'm perfectly _fine_."

"Korra."

"Seriously."

She shakes her head. With Mako, it's underneath the layers and layers of things he really wants to say. But she thinks about it again; _and we can't be friends_.

"I'm fine," she reiterates. "I just need to focus."

"You have focus," he insists.

"No," she says dryly. "I don't. Do you know how long it took me to not burn down Tenzin's _stupid_ , ancient airbending thing? Last week, Mako. _Last week_."

He laughs a little and she can't help herself; the smile is there. Her lips pull and twitch. She licks her lips too.

"Well -"

Korra waves her hand. "Whatever, at the very least I eventually admit to it -"

"Eventually," he quips.

She rolls her eyes and he smirks. His knee knocks hers. It takes a while but then he's close, and she _catches_ it. It's neither here nor there, but like always, there is nothing she can really do.

She could ask _how bad_. It's even at the tip of her tongue, pulsing, much like the aftermath of her fumbling attempts at air bending. The motions seem harsher to her, slow and steady instead of the sheer enjoyment of being impulsive and hard. She is the new kid for a reason.

She flicks her fingers against her nose though and then, there, let's out the exaggeration of a sigh.

"I'm glad you're here," she says finally, and it's honest, it might be more than honest, but whatever, okay. She cranes her head back and rests on her elbows. She should practice timing.

"Thanks," he says. He's quiet and serious; she doesn't look at him. He doesn't say me too.

This sticks with Korra long after.

 

-

 

Novelties are for children and Korra knows this because this is how Tenzin watches her, sadly, and how Lin watches her, with hard eyes, and so the others, they just want to _help_. Tenzin and Lin are watching her and waiting for her to say no, _no_ gently and hard and for whatever it will take; one step closer to the Avatar, just like that.

City patrols seem like a harmless idea; Asami is perfect to task, talking Korra through things like strategy and _well we're at war, right_ while Mako and Bolin both bring humanity to the forefront, as they should, as she needs them to. Support is support, right?

But she is still the first to grow up.

She has always been the fastest.

You cannot say this as a good thing.

 

 

"He's dead," she says flatly, and for the tenth time, Asami explains that his suit _malfunctioned_ and _no, it's not you_.

Korra is on her knees. The group of them are in a basement, or what looks like to be a basement, surround by transposed posters of Amon and equality as if it were just that sensible. She is sitting by the man though; his suit is ripped at the throat, fringed and wet. There's blood, crawling at his throat. His eyes are open wide - horror, maybe, and she isn't sure.

Her ears are ringing with whispers and both Tenzin and Lin are on a corner, relating the events that happened. Korra isn't sure - they stumbled, _absolutely_ , and there were these guys, okay, and not quite Amon's usual suspects but she cannot keep dragging people into this and Mako and Bolin were only so fast. Asami held it up pretty well too, but it pulsed in her, in Korra's hands and body, all the elements curling for release and it is still the scariest thing she's ever felt.

"Korra," Asami starts, gently too.

Mako touches her shoulder and Korra blinks, finally.

"I'm fine."

She reaches over the dead man, her hand brushing over his eyes. They close, fluttering against her palm. It was an accident, she thinks. He pivoted. She meant to subdue him. She didn't want to hurt anybody.

" _Korra_ ," Mako says this time and she looks at him, hair sticking to her face, her throat. It's warm in this building.

"I need to go," she says, and then she's up, on her feet. Bolin is the wiser of the three; he smiles sadly at her.

She walks and doesn't look back.

 

 

Republic City is no longer new.

She is home at the island late, later than the others; there are lights in the house and she counts the doors, stumbling over Mako's and Bolin's, Asami's, and is grateful for the dark. Tenzin is always wiser to wait for her, but for now, now, she doesn't want to talk to anyone.

She stands on the fringes, looking up at the imposing homage to the man that was her before (and much younger _too_ , Katara used to tell her - it was gentle, it wasn't her fault) and wants to break it, she wants to break everything. It may be expectation, it may not, but there's something about this, his _face_ , that makes her feel so impossibly angry at everyone, at herself.

She thinks about the dead man and wants to shover her fist into something.

Instead, she turns and she faces the open training ground and starts counting. It's feet first, okay, and then one, two, three, your hands should just move _this_ way and remember to relax your fingers. Her eyes close and it's just practice; she breathes through it, listening, shutting the rest of the world out, knowing the light of the city will still be there and she will still be _the_ Avatar.

Amon lives in her head too.

Since that night, of course. The fringes of his hands, his face; and on the roof, seeing that glimpse, how close she was to him. She wasn't going to lose it (Tenzin still tries to talk to her about it: _did you feel anything_ ) but she wanted to kill him, she actually wants to kill him because he's in her head and sleeping is impossible sometimes.

She doesn't talk about the nightmares. There's nothing to tell. She tells Tenzin that sleep is sleep and getting better, that's a legit concern - the Avatar State, that's a bigger concern too.

Her ears crack and the wind sighs.

She takes the pause. She stops thinking. Her eyes open slowly and Mako is standing right there, a few feet away and watching.

"How long?" she calls out. Her voice cracks.

"Not long," he says, and he's lying. You can't tell with Mako, but, but for whatever reason, she's learned to just tell.

He throws his jacket to the side though; his hands seem to live in his pockets, but for whatever reason. She is surprised and he pulls himself into positioning.

"Let's do this."

"Mako."

His eyes narrow. "Let's do this," he says, and somewhere, in there, she hears a you need to sleep.

It's how she thinks of the man again, the dead one. How did it start? Was it her footing? She didn't slip; she pulled herself, just in front of Lin, and the other woman was sharper with a mix of cables and earth. She gunned for the throat and didn't blink.

Korra blinks.

 

 

Mako keeps to rules. Out of habit, Korra does too. Water comes to her fists and it slams into his belly, taking him back to a knee. He glares at her and she glares back. What's the point, anyway.

"Mako," she starts and he growls with his teeth.

The fire comes and catches her leg. Her weight drops and she's stumbling to stay on her feet.

Her teeth clench and _idiot_ slips and she's thinking _okay okay i can_ , her hands curling into fist and the motions falling back into her. She moves fast, she's relentless, and there is no pro-bending here, so the air starts to shudder and she's forming a sphere without even thinking.

"Korra," he says, and Mako is wide-eyed. He is nowhere near frightened, not enough - she _thinks_ \- and he steels himself (he's _Mako_ , he does that) and forces more fire from his fingertips.

Then they fight.

 

 

Fighting Mako is different outside of a ring, outside of standing there with Bolin and Asami, a watchful Tenzin. He fights _dirty_ ; grabbing for arms, grabbing for legs, and the fabric of her clothes are starting to fringe and peel because of the heat of his fire.

She says stupid things too, like too many times, like, "I'm going to _drown_ you!" and the water hits him in the throat, but not hard enough. She is tired, she is bruised, and air _howls_ for her - not like Tenzin, but crueler, wider, and just right there. Mako keeps pushing too; fire knocks her jaw and steals her balance again and again. So she hits him in the stomach too and he pulls her ponytail hard to retaliate.

He kisses her first this time.

 

 

They don't talk about that.

You can't possibly know.

 

-

 

Nightmares are _the_ gig.

It takes another week or two, having everybody around, feeling so overwhelmed, to know that she's approaching something. She has Tenzin tell her fondly that she's doing better; air comes a little easier, but still is clumsy and no, Korra, no bigger is not _better_ \- this is after the seventh round of breaking Tenzin's panels, okay.

But sometimes, she comes outside and stares at the ring, she sees Amon hovering over her, hands poised and ready to take it all away from her, knowing that it's entirely too possible. She is afraid. She isn't. She knows that it's selfish to have the people inside, the house behind her, ready and worried and waiting.

She knows Mako watches her a lot.

 

 

"You should try talking about it."

Korra actually _breaks_ a panel. This is not new. This is far from new. But the guilt is always cyclical and new. It's one of them at the end of the practice space; the gears are slower.

She stands over it.

"Talk about what?" she asks, and her voice is calm.

"I don't know." Korra can _listen_ to Mako throw his hands up. "Something, anything - is this how it was?"

She hears the question and then the _sheltered_ thrown in underneath. Her mouth twitch. She touches her forehead.

"You should be in bed," she says.

"Bolin snores," he says quickly.

Korra rolls her eyes. "Not new."

He gives her a fond smile. She doesn't sit; he doesn't take a place. They stare at the practice space together.

Her bones ache. She is not just skin. She is a mix of four foundations that she doesn't entirely understand. She has clumsy memories. She is waiting for herself, for her _past_ selves, to come back and reassure - selfishly, probably. But for once, she wants someone to tell her that she's still a teenager and actually mean it.

She wonders if Amon understands that, this, if he's waiting for her to snap. Elements are uncontrollable, like everything else, and she'll snap, she swears she will, before anything happens to herself - she'll be born again and there will be other Amons and nothing none of them can do.

"When I went to see him," she says after awhile, calmly too. "After I did the stupid thing and challenged him, I cried. In Tenzin's arms."

If Mako is startled, she can't tell. She does hear him exhale. He doesn't say _i'm sorry_ or _i didn't know how to ask_.

"That's okay," he says slowly.

"No, no it's not." Her smile is wistful, startled onto her mouth. "I mean," she says quickly. "That's not what I should have been doing in the first place. I know what people expect."

"Do you?"

She looks at Mako. He licks his lips. She touches hers, almost impulsively.

"It's stupid," she says.

"It's _not_ ," he insists, and really, there's a change in pitch. His voice is harder and she thinks of the flame at her throat. "I'm not the best at this," he admits. "It's hard -"

"Not the best at what?" she interrupts.

He rolls his shoulders. "Bolin talks to you," he says, and it's all too streamlined. "And it's like, I don't, the most natural thing in the world - he doesn't push, he doesn't expect, and he trusts you."

Her cheeks flush and her hands curl into fists. She purses her lips together and thinks of Asami, then thinks of the other girl again. She likes her. Mako likes her.

"I don't know what to ask you," Mako says quietly.

Regret is funny this way.

 

 

(she remembers kissing him a lot, and how sweet, too _sweet_ the taste of his mouth was, how slick and certain, how kissing him - her first - was like the only thing that made sense, how it was dangerous, too dangerous, how she now worries about her lips being too chapped and too full of skin and that's why they don't talk because Mako's mouth is slick, so slick and he likes to grab and drag his tongue along the length of her bottom lip and she feels it, right there, in her belly much like the way fire licks away at her fingers and how water builds and builds and builds and there's earth too, unsteady, and air just as stupid and clumsy as the rest of her decisions; she will remember Mako kissing her a lot because it cannot be a reassurance, and it comes back to this a lot -)

 

 

Asami explains the mechanics of the glove, before the next go. She feels something like envy when it comes to the sensibilities behind a _malfunction_ , whatever that means.

It still comes down to the wiring and the intensity of each user. Or hate, mostly hate, the next argument for another time.

Mako stands too closer to her and watches.

They don't sneak around.


End file.
